The Crippled Lion and the She-Wolf
by PrincessFabala
Summary: Tyrion had promised Sansa that he would never touch her, but what happens when a new threat from Tywin is thrown into the mix... Summary and Title suck, story is better. Rated M for sex.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N So, my first GoT fanfiction and first multichapter fic (and the first thing I've written for ages). I know this has been done before, but I wanted to try my hand at this, mostly to explore Sansa's character but also because I love Tyrion. As always, please review, because reviews make my day, and constructive criticism is much appreciated and extremely helpful.**

**Disclaimer: Game of Thrones does not belong to me, in any incarnation or form. I wish it did, but it doesn't.**

"Tyrion, if a Lannister babe is not growing in that girl by the time the year is out, I will do it myself! Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," Tyrion nodded glumly. He had sworn to Lady Sansa that he would protect her, always. But he could not see any way that he could talk his way out of this. This threat, perhaps promise would be a more appropriate word, changed everything. Tyrion hoped his marriage to Sansa would go unconsummated forever. She was unspoiled, innocent and well, he was a disgusting cripple who had fucked hundreds of whores over the years. She deserved better.

Tyrion stood up and stalked out of his father's office. There was no point keeping this news from his wife, as it would disturb her even more than it did him. As he left the room, he shot an evil glare in his father's direction before navigating the castle towards Sansa's chambers. Being mid-afternoon, of course, it was perfectly possible that she wasn't there, and undertaking some leisure activity deemed appropriate for the innocent girl. Knocking on the door, he quickly discovered that she was not there, and endeavoured to find her later. It would be impertinent to disturb her if she was with Lady Margaery or some other noble woman.

He made his way to his own chamber, where he sat at his desk and opened a book. He was unaware as to which book, and could not focus on the words. All he could think of was the naivety and innocence of the girl he was supposed to fuck tonight. She was no woman, though she had bled. She was innocent to the ways of men, to the ways of war. Unfortunately, his father was learned in those ways, which was the real reason why she had been forced into this position.

Tyrion had grown up a cripple, an outcast. He never expected to be a tool to be commanded by his father. No one had ever wanted him. He never expected to be married. That was why he took comfort in his whores and his wine. It made him feel like someone cared. This line of thought lead him to the night in which he lost his own virginity. It was to some whore, when he was eighteen. He was never one to even consider saving himself for marriage, mostly because he never believed he would marry.

But Sansa, she was a noble girl, who had grown up with all the correct habits and interests, taught to be the best things a woman could be. She was obedient and innocent, but had also learned, in the years since she had come to King's Landing, to understand the evils of the world. She had already been through such an ordeal, what with Joffrey's constant torment and the deaths, murders, of much of her family.

But then, perhaps it was better for him to take her, and not have his father rape her. That would scar her more. Tyrion had slept with so many whores that he knew practically everything there was to know about sex, and he knew how to keep it gentle with Sansa. So maybe he was protecting her, in some twisted way.

**A/N So, what do you think? Let me know in a review. I'll probably upload the next chapter in a day or so (as long as I remember) because it's all written and just needs editing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I'm pleased with the response to this fic, and thanks to elaine451 and wildhoneyfitri1 for reviewing. As a treat for you all, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy:**

**Disclaimer: No, Game of Thrones still isn't mine. **

Sansa walked through the palace gardens with Lady Margaery. Both women had been raised in a proper fashion, making them pleasurable company for eachother, especially considering their shared relations towards King Joffrey. They chatted idly, occasionally commenting upon the beauty of the flowers, freshly opened out as the late spring turned into early summer.

Sansa spoke about her husband, sharing hushed comments about his height, or his slowly healing battle scars. Margaery spoke of her betrothal to Joffrey, and the plans for the celebrations, which would take place in a few weeks.

As the sun began to fade for the day, both women headed for their chambers to prepare themselves for dinner. However, no sooner had Sansa selected a gown for that evening, there was a knock at the door.

"Sansa," the voice outside said. "It's Tyrion. May I come in?"

Quickly handing the dress to her handmaiden, she murmured, "Of course, my Lord."

He pushed open the door and stumped in. He instructed the handmaiden to wait outside, as this was not something that she needed to hear.

"Sansa," he began. "I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you,"

Her eyes opened wide. She felt rude for not saying anything, but could find no words.

"Sit," he offered, pulling a chair out for her before seating himself opposite her. "I have spoken to my father. He is unhappy that we have chosen to leave our marriage unconsummated for so long. He demands that a babe reside within you before the year is out. Do you understand what this means?"

She offered a feeble nod, and she was fighting to keep control of her emotions. Her cheeks were red, and a tear was forcing its way out of one eye.

He continued, "I know that I vowed never to touch you, but I also promised to protect you, and my father has threatened to do it himself if I do not. And trust me, this is no idle threat. He would rape you in a heartbeat if he believed that it would benefit the Lannister family."

He paused there, as a mist formed over her blue-grey eyes. She could not quite process what he had just told her, but she was filled with an instant dread. She really did not want to do that with Tyrion, but she would much rather do it with a man who at least cared for her than Tywin. She wanted to hate Tyrion for telling her this, but his tone was protective and genuinely concerned. So it was Tywin she really hated. Tyrion, the twisted, unwanted cripple, wasn't the worst Lannister after all.

Tyrion, who was better composed than Sansa, went outside and told the handmaiden to apologise to those at the dinner table, and asked her to bring food up to Sansa's chambers. Quickly, a full platter of food was brought before them, accompanied by a single glass of wine. Tyrion knew that he must stay as sober as possible if he wanted to control himself properly tonight.

They sat in a companionable silence for a time following their meal, each trying to think about anything but their impending task. Finally, Tyrion stood up, reaching up to rest a comforting hand on Sansa's shoulder.

**A/N Did you like? Tell me what you thought in a review. Also, I'll probably be posting the next chapter tomorrow, if I remember.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Sorry, I completely forgot to update yesterday, but I had a lot going on. Anyway, in response to some of my reviews on this fic, this is only a 5 chapter story, hence the quick pace, so I'm not really going anywhere with this plot-wise, I just wanted to explore the characters and relationships here for future works.**

**Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed this fic, all of your comments are appreciated. **

**Disclaimer: No, it's still not mine. **

Sansa flinched away from the contact. Tyrion wanted to whisper into her ear, but found he could not reach, and instead whispered to her shoulder.

"Sansa, relax. It will only make things harder if you are so tense."

Breathing heavily, she composed herself. "Yes, my Lord," she whimpered, with a gentle nod.

"You needn't be so formal. I'm your husband, I'm not a superior, and we're in private. There's no need to stand on parade."

He reached to take her wrists, allowing her to stand up. Their height difference was laughable, but as Sansa nervously removed the pins from her hair and the jewels from her neck, it was clear that the smaller one was the wisest in this field. He removed his shirt and trousers, but decided that it might keep Sansa calmer if his manhood was concealed in his pants, at least for now.

Sansa reached behind her to unlace the back of her dress, but fumbled with it, being unused to dressing and undressing alone. Tyrion reached up in an attempt to help, but found that he couldn't. This was another embarrassment for him, but Sansa realised that though his outer form was difficult, she couldn't have hoped to be wed to a better Lannister when it came to core morals. She knelt willingly, a stark contrast to the events of her wedding, just a few weeks ago.

Tyrion felt a glow of happiness radiating from within him, which manifested itself as a slight smile on his face. Sansa seemed to have finally accepted him, and some of the tension between them had slipped away. She reached down to remove her shift. All of Tyrion's instincts wanted her to more than anything. He wanted to see the naked beauty in her entirety, but some sense of, what was it, guilt, sympathy, made him stop her.

Sansa had no idea what to expect next. Her husband had just refused her naked body. What did that mean? Was she not good enough for him? That would just be hypocritical. Had he seen his own appearance?

"Not yet," he whispered, after a pause.

He lead her slowly over to the bed, and nerves began to pool deep in her stomach. What if she did something wrong. She knew the basic principle of how it worked, and her mother had said that it would hurt, but was clueless as to what would actually happen, and how it would make her feel. She lay down slowly, flat on her back with her head resting on one of the pillows. Her legs were spread slightly, waiting for him to do something.

Tyrion saw her messy, fiery locks spreading from her head to the base of her back, the glimmer of nervousness in her ocean-like eyes, the rosy colour of anticipation on her cheeks, and felt blood rushing south. He ascended the steps that had been pushed against the bed for him, and laid on top of Sansa.

Sansa wondered why he still wore pants. Surely he had to remove them before he could do anything. But her question was answered by his whispering in her left ear.

"Let's take this slow," he murmured, brushing his lips past hers.

She smelled amazing. The scent of lemon and sugar radiated from her entire body, and her deep breaths pushed more sweet-smelling air towards his face. More blood seemed to rush south, and he felt his erection come, pushing against the stiff fabric of his pants. His lips returned to hers, pressing against them for a moment longer this time. He brought his arms up to settle in her thick hair. It cascaded down the bed in fiery waves. He pulled his fingers through it gently, leaning down for another kiss.

His touch was gentle, soft. It became obvious that he really did care for her. The way he kissed her, slowly, taking it a tiny bit further each time. The knot of nerves began to unfurl in her stomach, and she decided to let herself go, because this clearly wasn't going to be as bad as she had thought it would. He leaned down once more, and Sansa parted her lips, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth, exploring every crevice.

She tasted amazing, like honey and lemon. He felt her lips part and finally had managed to make her let go. Though he could happily kiss her all night long, there were more pressing demands. It was time to take this further.

**A/N Thanks for reading. What did you think? Let me know in a review. Next chapter will come soon. **


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